


Maybe it's Maybelline

by brunie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Lipstick, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1563065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunie/pseuds/brunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It's not. It's YSL.)</p><p> </p><p>Stiles gets really turned on watching lipstick be put on Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe it's Maybelline

**Author's Note:**

> It's pretty much a pwp, y'all.

  
A crowd of cheers swell in the room as a waft of new smells drift in through the door. They're unfamiliar, even under the impersonal notes of perfume and deodorants. Derek finds himself okay with it. He doesn't tense for potential enemies. He's sitting with his back to an open window and has no urge to hunch over to protect his belly.

The whole pack is here. It's his housewarming as well as a welcome back party for Erica, who returned a couple weeks ago, strong and whole. It's a fucking miracle and Boyd hasn't left her side all night. The touch of awe and joy still hasn't left his face, his hand staying clasped in hers.  
  
Derek feels buzzed with it, takes a pull from his beer and sinks into his chair, letting the sounds of his pack and friends wash over him without paying particular attention to any single one.  
  
"You look like you could start purring any moment, sugar," someone says. A cloud of artificial musk and flowers almost gags him, but Derek only wrinkles his nose, feeling too good to move. "It's a nice night," he offers back.  
  
The queen hums at him, taps a long painted nail to her glass. "You're way too cute to be left alone for long. I'm lucky I found you before the other girls did."  
  
"Other girls?"  
  
She chuckles, takes a seat on the fat armrest to his right. "We're hard to ignore."  
  
"So that was you guys at the door."    
  
She counts off her fingers, rhinestones glittering when they catch light. "Mimi FoRill, Angel." She slants him a look from under her silver lashes, tapping her middle finger to thumb, "Sweet _Gyna_ ," grinning when Derek snorts.  
  
"And you?"  
  
" _Miss Sofia Vulgara_ ," she finishes with flourish, striking a pose along the back of the chair. Derek bites the inside of his cheek.  
  
Sofia tosses back the last of her drink, sets the glass aside before chiding, "Polite boys introduce themselves."    
  
He lifts a brow. "Miss Vulgara likes them polite?"    
  
Her teeth are threateningly white against her bright, overpainted lips when she smiles. "It feels dirtier when they're sweet."  
  
"Uhm." He coughs. "Derek Hale. Welcome to my home."  
  
"Oh, the host? And here I was hoping you'd be entertainment."  
  
He shakes his head. "I only get to lend the space." He only ever got to lend the space. "Were you bored?"  
  
"Well," Sofia says, sooty sparkling eyes roaming his face, speculative. "There's always something that could make things more interesting."  
  
Derek shrugs. As long as it didn't include wolfsbane, electrocution, or fire, he could probably go along with it. He brings the neck of his bottle to his lips. "Shoot."  
  
Sofia smiles.  
  
\---  
  
Stiles is a few feet from stepping back inside when Erica's wolf whistle cuts through the air. He pauses, and looks through the window to see what she's laughing at. There's a few more cat calls throughout the room and he sees Sofia Vulgara straddling somebody in the armchair, twisting up a glinting tube of... something in her hands.  
  
He grins, rubbing his hands together as he sneaks closer to the window, planning to get the jump on them. There's no moon tonight and it's dark as shit on the lampless, half built porch.  
  
"My mother used to wear that brand." Stiles freezes when the person underneath her speaks. Stiles blinks. When the Derek underneath her speaks. That was Derek's voice.  
  
He barely keeps himself from clapping in delight and steps closer to the side so he can confirm the voice. When he does, he has to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh and lean against the brick wall. He looks up again, determined to see Derek squirm in his friend's clutches.  
  
What ends up happening is Stiles watching Sofia lift the wolf's chin and Derek.... letting her do it. Not just that, but also lowering his gaze, docile, letting his lashes fan down over his cheek and indirectly baring his throat as she studies his face. Stiles blinks again, propping himself up and away from the wall.  
   
"She had good taste," Sofia murmurs, tucking her thumb gently under Derek's lower lip. "Ah," she demonstrates, pressing lightly and Stiles feels his own lips part. Mouth going dry when Derek… does it. Derek Hale. Just opens his mouth. Soft. Until the white edge of his front teeth, the slick glimmer of tongue peeks through. Sofia coos at him, "good boy," and pats his stubbled cheek. Derek huffs a laugh and Stiles… Stiles shivers, face growing warm.

The wide curve of Derek's upper lip is a little bigger than his lower one. The rosy smear of it contrasting against his slightly uneven front teeth. It makes the line of his mouth look sulky and pettish, unsure. Stiles can see it drawing the attention of predators. Makes it easier to think, sometimes, that maybe Derek wasn't so much older than the rest of them, in the scheme of things, really, in the fucked up backdrop of Derek's life.

It's lipstick in Sofia's hand. She starts at the corner of the wolf's bottom lip, pressing and dragging over yielding flesh. And it's a _red_ red. Like, ADULT red. No messing around red. Not shiny but... rich or something. Stiles doesn't fucking know. Just that it's obvious as hell. Stark against Derek's pale skin, the dark grain of his stubble. His hands twitch, fingers feeling both numb and tingly. He flexes them, wishing he had his beer bottle still, something cold to grip. But he can't remember where he put it. Can't remember what he was doing. Can't recall anything about the party before he started watching the smear of rouge against Derek's stupid hot open mouth.

Stiles' heart thuds against his ribcage. He feels confused and a little embarrassed, body flashing all hot and cold.

"Press your lips together for me, honey," Sofia says as she finishes painting his upper lip. "Mm."

"Mm," Derek obediently mimes, pressing the seam of his lips together slowly, careful. Stiles feels the hair raise on the back of his neck, his dick twitch in his pants.

Sofia hums with approval and cleans up with a lacquered nail along the edge of his lip. Satisfied, she grasps his jaw and turns his head both ways before holding it back center. "Look at me," she says and Derek does, smiles a little. Stiles digs his fingers into his thighs. "How does it look?"

Sofia gives the were a shrewd look, then smacks a kiss to his mouth before pushing him away. "You know how it looks, harlot." Derek laughs. Stiles curls in a bit at the sound.

He watches Derek reach up for the queen to pull her in and Stiles is moving before he realizes it. The bang of the screen door is loud when he crashes through it. But he's inside, in front of them just as Derek draws her close enough to press his lips to her cheek. "I'm pretty sure Sofia Vulgara has killed for less," he blurts, breathing a little too hard.  
  
Sofia raises her arms in greeting from her place in Derek's lap. "Baby! I was wondering where you were!"  
  
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Right outside. Saw the whole thing. Ha." He nods his head towards the open window and glances at Derek, trying (praying) for casual. The wolf had to have known he was there, out of sight as he technically was. The house might've been full of people but he wasn't standing more than a few feet away with the wall between them. Stiles hopes he doesn't smell too much like sweat, that his heart doesn't actually beat out of his chest.  
  
"Were you?" Sofia grins. "I was a bit preoccupied."  
  
"Yeah," Stiles says absently, staring at Derek, at his red mouth. Derek stares back, eyes unreadable, smile diminished. Back to normal. Stiles' stomach clenches. "You're not supposed to touch their faces," he says, poking his own cheek. "They spend basically years on their face."  
  
"I'll allow it this time, honey," Sofia says, benevolent. "I mean, just look at him," she enthuses, tilting Derek's face towards Stiles. "Gorgeous, isn't he? It's sickening."  
  
"Yeah," Stiles breathes. "Gross."  
  
She throws her head back in a laugh, and Stiles shoots her a distracted smile. Derek's upper lip is a ruddy sullen curve and Stiles wants to press something against it. Mess it up. His skin prickles, and he uses the hand in his pocket to pull his jeans away from himself a little. He shakes his head. "Uhm. I thought you wanted to be _my_ drag mother."  
  
Sofia arches a brow, eyeing the both of them. "Mothers can have more than one child, baby. Plus, you've never said yes."  
  
"Stiles has always been an only child," Derek volunteers. "I don't think he's ever learned to share."  
  
It makes Stiles flush, feel hotter under the collar despite himself. Like Derek could see right through him, see his hands fisted inside his pockets with the urge to _mark_ him or whatever. "Scott's my brother!" he protests. "We've practically been living in each others' pockets since...since before we had pockets."

A corner of Derek's lips twitch and when he meets his eyes, they are openly amused. The asshole.

"It's basically the same thing," Stiles mutters, adding sulkily, "I always thought you were just teasing me anyhow."  
  
Sofia clucks at him, "Oh honey, I could make you a _gorgeous_ woman. There was no joking about that."

Derek tilts his head speculatively, gives him a slow once-over. Stiles' brain fries. The thought of Derek being even remotely into this as much as Stiles apparently is... unbearable, suddenly.

He needed everyone out of here yesterday.  
  
"Maybe," Stiles chokes out. "Sure. Sometime. But I, uh-- um." There's a slight tremble to Derek's shoulder that Stiles knows means he's trying to stifle a laugh. Stiles won't have it.

"I, um," he tries again, wracking his brain. He just... just needs to get in there and-- and watch Derek bite his lip. "Just, PARDON Sofia," he explodes, giving up on decorum to squirm between the two on the chair, maneuvering to separate them without outright throwing his friend off Derek's lap. He's never claimed to be subtle. He's already tugging at Derek's wrist when he demands, "Lemme borrow the big guy for a sec." 

  
\--  
  
Derek rubs his lips together as he lets Stiles drag him across the room, absently thoughtful of the texture. Hoots and hollers are thrown at them, but Stiles doesn't seem to notice, too hot and bothered to care. A smirk tugs at the corner of Derek's mouth and he looks over his shoulder back at Sofia, who winks at him. The teen's pulse is so loud Derek is surprised the ground doesn't shake with it.  
  
They stop abruptly in front of his bedroom, and whatever frenetic energy that had dragged Derek upstairs seems to dissipate back into just nerves. Stiles starts fidgeting and practically throws Derek's wrist away when he realizes he still has a grip on it. "Well," he says, licking his lips. "Uhm." He looks up at Derek through the thick fringe of his lashes and god. Even without makeup he looks so fucking appealing. Derek watches those pink lips open and close, struggling to find their words. Soft, and perpetually sticky, the skin always clinging a bit before it parts.  
  
"What, Stiles?"

"Your  _mouth,_ " he blurts out, before squeezing his eyes on a groan, knocking the heel of his palm against his forehead. "I can't stand it." 

Derek stays silent. 

"I thought that maybe you also..." His eyes fall onto Derek's mouth again, helpless, dumb. His soft, sticky mouth parts again, breaths coming short and hot. "Did I read this wrong?"

Derek bares his teeth at it. Stiles _reeks_ of want and Derek can practically see it steaming out of his skin. It makes him want to pin the teen down, swallow him whole. Have him shake, cry with it. Lead his face over to Derek's lap, so he could gloss those pretty lips with his dick, before sinking it deep into that plush mouth. Teach the kid how to use it.

"There are people down there, Stiles," Derek chides, even as he reaches down, takes one of Stiles' big, skinny hands and lifts it deliberately to his mouth.

"Your friends. The whole pack, Scott. Do you want them to hear you?"

Stiles' throat bobs as he watches Derek take his thumb between his lips, dips it into his mouth, slow, hollowing his cheeks slightly with suction. He doesn't look away from Stiles' eyes, which are as wide as Derek's ever seen them, pupils blown wide.

The kid is panting now, expression almost horrified. Derek pulls his finger out with a pop, holding the hand between their faces so Stiles can see it glisten, under the ring of red circling the biggest knuckle.

Stiles actually keens, biting his lip, slim hips giving an involuntary jerk. He drops the hand to Derek's shirt and twists his fingers in it. Derek lets him pull them close, walks Stiles back to the wall and crowds against him, press the kid's long, firm body into the wall.

"You don't even care, do you? That they know." Derek drags his nose up Stiles' hairline, buzzed short and gerbil soft again for the summer. "They've already smelled you." Embarrassment floods Stiles' scent, but not enough to overpower his arousal. His cheeks are flushed a deep red, and Derek rubs his stubbled cheek along the softer, paler flesh. "Like that, huh?" Stiles only clings to him, growing more feverish with each rebuke. Christ.  
  
He wraps a hand around Stiles', rubbing his own thumb against the ring of rouge, smudging the stain. "Like this too, don't you? The smell of you's so thick I bet even the queen downstairs could smell your little boner." Stiles moans.

He drops his hand to the front of Stiles' jeans, pressing his palm against the zipper, middle fingers splitting around said boner. "It turn you on that much, Stiles? Watching someone handle me?" Derek murmurs, rubbing his hand against the fabric, working the boy through it. "Make me pretty?"

Stiles nods mindlessly, clutching at Derek's back and digging his fingers into the muscle. "You just let her," he whines, accusing almost, hands dragging down his back and into his pants, pushing Derek's hips against his own. Short nails bite into his ass and Derek lets out a hiss.

"You just opened your mouth," he complains, "and you just looked so vulnerable. So easy." Teenage hips pushing impatiently at Derek's, humping mindlessly until Derek gets a grip on them, pinning them back to the wall with both hands to just grind against him, hard and slow.

"Yeah," he grits into Stiles' ear, "How'd that make you feel? What'd it make you want to do?"

Stiles squirms. "To push you down," he pants. "Mess you up." Small, even teeth sink into Derek's shoulder and he growls, slams the boy against the wall. Stiles just whimpers, staring up at him with hurt eyes and says,"Your mouth looks so perfect. I want to put my dick in it."

  
\--  
  
There's a pause before Derek huffs a laugh. Then Stiles' blinking down at the dude's hair whorl before he's being tossed over a shoulder, squawking, carried into the room, door kicked shut behind them.

Stiles grunts when his ass hits the mattress, looks up to swear but Derek's already yanking off his shirt, dropping to his knees, pushing Stiles' legs apart.

He shoves Stiles back with a broad hand, who wheezes for a second on his back before trying to lift himself back up onto his elbows. But of course Derek is a neanderthal on a mission and doesn't let him do so until he's skinned Stiles' jeans and shorts down his legs and tosses them aside.

He hooks Stiles' knees over his shoulders, eyes closed and nostrils flaring as he rubs his stubble against Stiles' soft inner thigh. Stiles makes a strangled noise and wonders deliriously at how sturdy Derek looks between his legs before the man's ducking his head, nosing under Stiles' balls to lave a hot tongue over his taint.

Stiles' eyes cross and he clutches at the sheets. Derek has his jaw dropped low, mouth wide as he tongues messily over his balls, sloppy and curling. Stiles' flushed pink dick is drooling against his shirt, twitching in anticipation and Stiles can't help but whine when Derek pins the slick head to his belly with a palm.  
  
Derek is low in the V of Stiles' legs, presses the tip of his tongue to his teeth, looking extra mean against the red of his mouth. Stiles stares at it, dazed.

"Pay attention," Derek murmurs, smirking, and slowly moves his open mouth up the length of his dick, the pink unpainted flesh inside his lower lip dragging against the underside, eyes hot and dark from under long lashes, gaze locked on Stiles' face, slack jawed and stupid. But he can't help it, Stiles is obeying orders, transfixed on the ring of Derek's red wet mouth.

The hand on Stiles' dick moves underneath his shirt, rests flat on his belly. Derek purses his lips when he reaches the tip, pressing the shape of it onto his skin. Stiles feels it zing through his body, curl his fingers and toes. He pleads, " _Derek_."  
  
The wolf smirks, like an asshole, and lingers just to feel Stiles squirm. Then he parts his lips, drops his jaw and just _sinks down_ until he's actually kissing Stiles' pubic bone. Stiles yells, dropping back onto his shoulders. His hips arch instinctively, pumping up a few desperate strokes before Derek catches him in his hands. He moves Stiles for him, forces him into a rhythm, mouth wrapped around him in these long tight pulls. Stiles' breathing feels harsh as he pants, sweating, a flush crawling down his chest.  
  
When Derek swallows him down completely again, he holds Stiles still, thick fingers digging firmly into his hips and ass. He squeezes once, spreading Stiles' cheeks and the teen sobs, body giving a reflexive jerk. The feeling of his hole exposed; the filthy hot, wet clutch of Derek's mouth feels too good, too overwhelming.

Stiles wants to pull back, thrust back in again, but Derek keeps himself impaled, face red through his beard, sweat beading at his temple. He looks up, makes sure Stiles is watching before he starts working his throat, deliberate and obscene. Stiles shakes in his hands.

Derek swallows; does it again, and again until Stiles' body locks up and he comes with a wordless scream. He's still shooting when Derek pulls off with a gasp, catches a spurt in his open, panting mouth. Another on his cheek, his chin; the drip of it slow in his stubble.  
  
Stiles trembles from aftershocks, chest heaving and dazed, as he tries to cope with the image of Derek's wrecked mouth, the color smudged outside his lips, onto Stiles' dick. He whines when Derek absently swipes a streak come off his cheek and into his mouth.

Derek smirks, bites a kiss to Stiles' thigh before dropping his legs off his shoulders. There's rustling of movement for a heartbeat before Derek's covering him, completely naked, forearms on either side of Stiles' head before he's lowering to smear kisses into Stiles' lips.  
  
The sudden weight is comforting, Derek's heavy muscle solid and grounding over his body.

"Mmph," Stiles sighs, wrapping his arms around Derek's back, letting the were just lick into his mouth, grind his hot dick against Stiles' belly. It feels like he's melting into the mattress and he thinks how great it would be if he just became one with Derek's bed and made out with the dude forever.  
  
\--  
  
Derek reaches back for Stiles' hands, tangling their fingers and moving them up over their heads. He delves into Stiles' mouth, silky soft and deep while Stiles moans. He smells so fucking good to Derek, seeping satisfaction, long body loose-limbed and warm underneath him. It makes Derek want to drop his fangs, want to rev the teen up all over again.  
  
He breathes deep, brushing his nose against Stiles', rubbing his stubble against the blush still staining Stiles' softer cheek. Derek nuzzles against the boy's freckled jaw, runs his hands down Stiles' arms to rub over his sides as he mouths against his neck.  Stiles shudders out a long sigh. He mumbles "this is the best" and wraps himself around Derek, running a hand through his hair. "Why aren't we always doing this?"  
  
Derek snorts, pulling back to look at him. "Why aren't we always letting people make me up so you can drag me somewhere to blow you?"  
  
"Yeah," Stiles nods. "And lemme mess up your dumb face. The best."  
  
Derek eyes Stiles' own rosy smeared mouth, chin, and cheek. "You should check a mirror."  
  
"Whatever," he says and pulls him back down for another kiss. "You like it."  
  
Derek lets himself get lost in the taste of it, the slow slide of their tongues thick in his mouth, before he rolls them over, Stiles on top.

Stiles makes a soft noise, but doesn't detach from his mouth, instead bringing his hands up to cup Derek's jaw to kiss deeper as he stretches his legs out between Derek's. Derek indulges him, tilts his head and opens his mouth to let the boy dip in as he liked.

He rubs his hands over Stiles' back, pushes his fingers into the valley of it and trails them down into the cleft of the kid's ass. Stiles grunts against his mouth and lifts into it, makes a stuttered sound when Derek squeezes, runs his thumbs hard into the divot at the base of his spine.

He presses Stiles down, grinding lazily against him, cock still throbbing between them, Stiles gasps, popping his mouth off to moan. His big eyes are getting glassy again, lips red and swollen. "Get hard for me again, Stiles?" Derek murmurs. Stiles snuffles into Derek's neck, nodding, his hips moving in small, eager circles against him.  
  
"That's it," Derek breathes into his ear. "Perfect. Stiles, you're perfect."  
  
He warms up right in Derek's hands, skin getting pinker and humid with sweat. "God," Derek groans, rolling his hips up, his dick dragging a thick, hot line up Stiles' stomach. "You make me feel so fucking good, Stiles." Stiles whines, high in his throat, movements growing more frantic against Derek.  
  
Derek closes his eyes, rocking up and using the teen's weight for friction. He brushes over the kid's hole, fingertips catching slightly at its rim and Stiles arches against him, greedy for it. Derek pants, "Yeah, you like that, huh?" and murmurs into his ear, "It feels good for me there too."  
  
Stiles chokes, practically convulses over him, digging his skinny fingers into the meat of Derek's shoulders. "Fuck," he curses, pushing himself up onto his hands.

His face looks furious and wounded at the same time, splotchy with the intensity of his blush. It makes Derek embarrassingly fond, so he curls up and licks it. Stiles turns his head, catching his lips to kiss him sloppy, hard, before pushing him back, short nails dragging down Derek's chest.

"Fuuuuucccck," he complains, eyes narrowed and roving greedily over Derek's body, Derek's face, down to his own pink pretty dick lying next to Derek's redder fatter one.

"Fuck, fuck _fuck_." He rocks his hips forwards and back, trails a hand down from Derek's torso to trap both their cocks against Derek's abs.

He ruts forward again, thrusting dryly, whining with the friction. "Do you really? Are you serious?"

Derek stretches back, reaching blindly into his bedside shelf for his bottle of lube, uncapping it and drizzling messily it into his hands before knocking back Stiles' hand to replace with his own. 

Stiles collapses (faceplants) into Derek's chest with a loud groan, nuzzling against the hair and placing bites across his skin, lips leaving lipstick residue marks behind. The luscious feel of slick moving tightness over his aching dick is a relief, and the smell of himself mixing with Stiles is heady as hell. Derek tongues at a fang as he loses himself the feeling, allows himself several more pumps before he forces himself to stop.

Stiles moans a noise of distress and snuffles up to Derek's neck, hips helplessly thrusting through the leftover slick, chasing the feeling. "Noooo. Don't stop."

  
"Here, I'll prove it to you." Derek pushes Stiles back, then pulls his own knees up, spreading his legs. "You don't want to?"  
  
"Oh fuck you," Stiles hisses, looking gut-punched.

Derek brings a hand between his legs, gives his cock a stroke before running it over his balls, down his taint. He circles two fingers against his hole, pressing until a fingertip pops in, keeps going until his finger's completely buried.

It's not long before he's wriggling in a second. Stiles has a hand fisted tight around the base of his dick, face slack with lust.

He puts a hand underneath one of Derek's knees, and pushing it up, spreading his legs further apart, more exposed.

"Let me. let me let me. Can I? Please?" He asks, already having put his hand over Derek's working one, fingertips rubbing the knuckles pressed against his rim. Derek nods, takes out his own fingers with a grunt, spreads his legs wider.  
  
\--  
  
Stiles hand is trembling slightly as he swipes his fingers over Derek's wet ones and Derek's ass before he tentatively presses two against the were's hole.

"Oh," he breathes, when they just sink in, easy, to the first knuckle. He pushes them in further, steady, to the last knuckle.

Derek shivers, lets a low groan when Stiles gives them a few, long experimental thrusts before widening to scissor them, make room to slip in a third fingertip. He's more careful with the third finger, but after wriggling it in and seeing Derek easily accommodate it, he has no reservations pistoning them in and out and start to really feel him out, rolling his fingers inside, swiping around his rim and rubbing at his inner walls.

Derek jerks slightly every time he runs over a certain spot. Stiles swallows, feeling overheated, watching himself and the jump of Derek's skin.

It's a bit overwhelming, jarring, the softness of him inside. Something slick and swollen and precious, allowing Stiles inside. He drops his head, licking at the stretched flesh before he realizes it, flicking his tongue over the stretched edge of Derek's rim even as his fingers are still moving inside his ass, now pressing down in small relentless circles over his prostate.

It pulls near soundless grunts from Derek's throat, which feel wired straight to Stiles' dick. Derek's mouth is hanging open and tongue resting sloppily at the corner of his mouth, his skin shiny with sweat.

Stiles swipes his tongue over his taint, laves over Derek's balls with soft, muffled noises, getting lost in it when the dude's suddenly grabbing his wrist, pulling him out and back up his body, growling, " _Come on_."  
  
Stiles scrambles up into where the man wants him, puppyish and eager, laying his front flush against Derek's. Derek tilts up his hips, bring his knees high up Stiles' sides. He demands, voice rough, "Give it to me, Stiles."

Stiles nods frantically, slicking up his cock with a pass of his hand and lining up against Derek's ass. He rubs the tip of it somewhat clumsily over Derek's hole, before it catches at his rim. When it sinks in a bit, Stiles presses in a little too fast, makes Derek hiss with the burn. Stiles whimpers, hips jerking the last inch into the wolf, eyelids fluttering with the feeling.

He hooks his arms under Derek's calves, sort of hugs sort of slumps against the dude's hairy thick thighs and tries not to hyperventilate. It was too good, too much. Warm, wet, tight grip around his teenage dick.

He was a _virgin_ not an hour ago, Stiles thinks, crazed. How he went from that to knowing the inside heat of Derek's mouth and ass was beyond him.  
  
He mouths at Derek's skin, wherever he can reach, self-soothing more than anything, and strokes down his thighs with his hands until he reaches Derek's ass, spreads his fingers to cup the muscled cheeks. He digs into the meat of it, looks up to meet Derek's eyes, his crazy supernova eyes. His face is flushed, sweat beading his brow, mouth dropped slightly open. Stiles reaches up to touch it, rub his fingers over it before dipping in. And Derek takes them, tongue rubbing lazily against them, eyes drooping like they had when Sofia was touching him.

 _How?_ Stiles thinks again, biting his lip at the simultaneous feel of the plush soft of Derek's mouth, the hot clutch of Derek's ass. He doesn't realize he's said it out loud until Derek groans, "You only had to ask. It just took you forever to do it." Then clenches his ass around Stiles, making him yelp. He flashes fang at him, eyes narrow and amused. "I wanted you too, you know."  
  
Stiles shivers. He wants to tell him to shut up, but not really. It's just that his feelings are supposed to be confused in secret and he feels extra vulnerable sunk deep into the object of said feelings.

He grinds his hips in, as close and as deep as he can get. Derek's eyelids flutter with the movement. Big, broad hands cup around Stiles ass, pulling him down to keep him deep while Derek's hips start rolling, moving Stiles' dick inside him.

Stiles clings to Derek's legs, starts moving his hips when Derek instructs him with his hands. He tries to be slow, pulling out only a couple inches before sinking back in, but Derek growls and it feels too fucking good and once his hips are rolling in and out, he can't fucking stop. His hips are slapping against Derek's ass before he knows it, moving on their own, frantic and eager.

Stiles pushes his whole body forward and down when Derek reaches to pull him down to kiss him, his elbows hooking into the undersides of Derek's knees, practically folding Derek in half to reach his mouth. He bends easy and Stiles doesn't know what to do with this information, with knowing of Derek's flexibility nor how increasingly hot the dude is to him the further they get into this.

How will he be expected to cope if this turns out to be a one time thing? "It won't be," Derek's muttering into his face. Shit, he was doing it again. Stiles groans, sealing their mouths and drops his hold on one of Derek's legs to cup the man's jaw.  
  
Derek's arm is working between them and Stiles breaks their kiss to look. He drops his forehead to Derek's chest and bites his lip watching him working himself with his fist, blunt meaty head fucking in and out. He wants that too. He wants to take it in his mouth and his ass and have it rub off everywhere on his body. He wants everything, feels impatient with the need of it, bites at Derek's chest with small frustrated sounds. Stiles makes his way to Derek's nipple, scraping his teeth over that too and feels Derek squeeze around him with a gasp.

Stiles pulls back, sitting up, knees on either side of Derek's hips, readjusting his hold on Derek's leg from his arm to his shoulder. He winds an arm around Derek's thigh and presses his overheated cheek to his calf, watches Derek jack himself, his balls moving with every jerk and roll of Stiles' hips. Derek's other hand wanders over his own chest, scratching over the hair, then pinching at his own nipple. Stiles mouth is open, feels wet with spit, too turned on and close to the edge.

Derek's hands are moving quick and brutal over his thick, weeping cock, tongue licking over his own teeth and chanting "yeah, yeah, yeah" with every thrust Stiles gives. Stiles can see his abs jumping, the flush drawn low on Derek's torso, littered with smudges of lipstick left from Stiles' mouth, and thinks that he might be close too. Stiles whimpers, "Am I good, Derek?" begs, "What can I give you?" as his hips rabbit into Derek, teenage desperate and too hot for his skin.

Derek huffs out a laugh, breathless, and says, "Yeah, Stiles." Says, "You're perfect. Just don't stop, keep-- ah. Ah. _fuck_."

Stiles leans forward, planting his knees and just goes for broke, panting loudly over Derek. His free hand fumbles between them, under Derek's balls to feel at the stretched skin, rubbing over it. He slows just enough to push the tip of a finger in when Derek gives a stuttered curse, body tight and arching up as he shoots up his front, all the way up to his neck.

Stiles chokes on a gasp, shaking with the effort of stilling his hips, the feeling of Derek constricting around him in pulses. His eyes sting, blur at the sight of Derek running a hand over his heaving chest, rubbing his own come into the marks Stiles left on his skin.

 _I did that_ , he thinks desperately. _Me_. His hips give a jerk with the thought, and he can't stop moving them after that. He realizes he's crying when he blinks, tears falling hot and fat onto Derek's stomach.

Derek smiles at him, soft, with that ruined beautiful mouth and says, "That was so good Stiles. You made me feel so good." 

And that's it, Stiles comes with a sob, clinging to Derek's leg as it feels ripped out of him.

  
\--  
  
Stiles is still trembling when he slumps over him, goes easily when Derek removes his hold on his leg and pulls him down to his chest. The boy snuffles, face still wet, unthinking of the mess, and wriggles his hands under Derek's back to wrap his arms around his waist. He slides his legs back, tangling them with Derek's and slips out of him in the process. He can feel Stiles' heart still thumping hard against his stomach and strokes a hand over his sweaty back, the other running over his shorn hair.     
  
When his breathing slows to normal, and his sniffling stops, Stiles sighs. A long whoosh of air over Derek's chest.  
  
Quiet settles over them. Derek's not sure what time it is, or when the party ended exactly, but the house is empty, music turned off. He wonders for a moment if they were the ones who drove everyone out, but finds it really hard to give a shit. Half their friends were perverts and practically exhibitionists themselves anyway. So really, who cares.  
  
Derek thinks they might just fall sleep like this when Stiles speaks. "I can't believe that just happened."  
  
Derek hums, taps his fingers along Stiles' spine. "Can't say I expected it either."  
  
There's a pause, then, "It was… it was okay though, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Oh. Good." Derek glances down at him, sees him worrying his lip before continuing, "I thought it was nice."  
  
"No way," Derek smirks, and then jerks when his nipple gets bitten for it. "Fuck off," Stiles mutters.  
  
Derek bites back a laugh and rolls them, rests his forehead against Stiles. "Stay the night," he says.  
  
"Okay," Stiles says back, tilting his head up for a kiss.  
  
They make out until they fall asleep.

\--

When Derek wakes up, Stiles is doing Joker impressions in the bathroom. He rolls out of bed, walks right into a startled, then cackling Stiles, and carries them both into the shower.  
  
  
(Stiles drops by a drugstore to visit the makeup aisle on his way home.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The end.

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out to be a long porn. Whoops.


End file.
